Work Text:
The alarm goes off and Miranda’s heart leaps in her chest seconds before her eyes fly open and she takes in the darkness of her room. She read somewhere that the reason they make alarm clocks sound like that is because the noise spikes your adrenaline, and it wakes you up fast. Maybe it was cortisol. They’re similar enough. But she remembers it was some kind of evolutionary use- it’s a hormone that makes you scared, like you have to run from the leopard, and it’s useful to wake up and be ready to go. Kind of like working as a lawyer. Maybe they’re all just running from different kinds of leopard all the time.
In that split second of hearing her alarm and remembering her fun fact, she throws her hand onto the stand to shut off the noise. But when her room’s not quiet it’s then that she remembers Steve, too. He makes that cute little noise he makes when he’s waking up, kind of somewhere between a protest and a groan.
Quietly, she sits up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed, but as cute as the noises of Steve are, they do mean he’s awake enough to stop her from being an independent adult.
He reaches one hairy arm out and wraps it around her middle, yanking her back into bed like a cruel bungee.
“Steve,” she says after a moment, eyes still open, as he resettles into the bed with that one arm still holding her close, “I have to go to work.”
“No, you don’t.”
God, she loves that accent.
“Yes, I do. I really do. Now-”
She tries to get up, but it’s like the unstoppable force vs unmoveable object paradox. There’s no solution but unmoving. Not moving? It’s too early.
“Steeve, I need to put a pot of coffee on, or else I’ll have to stop on my way to work, and I hate walking and drinking at the same time, so-”
“Miranda, it’s Sunday,” he says, muffled in her back.
She furrows her brow. “But I set my alarm.”
“So? It’s still Sunday.” His laugh comes off in a huff. “Stay.”
“Stay?” She furrows her brow, but there’s a light smile on her face that’s accompanied by a nervous chuckle of her own. “Why, wanna fuck?”
“What? Miranda…”
“Don’t Miranda me. Women are worth more than a quick fuck, you know, especially if I let you stay the night. But don’t deny me a good-”
“Miranda,” he laughs, again. There’s far too much laughing in this situation. “I’m barely awake, it’s six in the morning-”
“Five.”
“Five in the morning, just… stay here. For a little bit. It’s warm.”
“It’s warm everywhere,” she says, just to be a contrarian, and he nuzzles his face into her back and yeah, yeah, maybe this is good. “OK, fine, but just for a minute.” She burrows into the bed, fluffing her pillow while under the weight of his arm, and she knows he’s still half asleep because he mutters some nonsense that makes no sense, but it just makes her smile.
God. When did she become so comfortable with this man?
She’s letting him cuddle her. In bed. Not a post-coital cuddle, just a nice, comfortable, warm, sleepy cuddle.
What happened to her?
It’s not like she’s a heartless whore like Samantha (she says with affection), but she’s been accused of man-hating for her pro-woman politics long enough that, almost without noticing, she had slipped into a familiar habit of man-hatred. But who could blame her, or any other woman for that manner? It’s not like the world makes it easy to see them as a loving and nurturing species. He was supposed to be a one night stand. He was going to be a one night stand. This wasn’t supposed to go so- so- so good.
Before she can get so angry her jaw starts clenching and her arms get all crossed, Steve lifts the arm trapping her up to pet lazily at her hair.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“I can hear you thinking.”
“I’m not thinking.”
“You’re always thinking. Stop it.”
“I knew this was all a plot to get me to be some domestic thing.”
“No, it’s ‘cuz no one likes havin’ panic attacks first thing in the morning.”
She reaches around to punch him in the shoulder and he grabs her pillows defensively. Now that she’s looking at him his eyes are open and he’s propped up on his free arm, grinning, hidden behind his pillow.
Bastard.
He’s adorable.
“Shut up.”
“Shut me up then!”
She lifts her head up to smash her lips into his and he smirks right before she can get her skin on him. She grabs him by his shirt collar and says “there. I win.”
“Are you goin’ anywhere?”
“No…”
“Then I win.”
She pushes him with a bit of a bite, so he’s on his back and she can climb half on top of him.
“Not while I’m in charge.”
“Oh, alright.”
“I think you mean yes sir.” She raises an eyebrow at him and he laughs, and when she can see her affection mirrored right back at her in his eyes, she doesn’t frown. She blossoms.